


Vulnerable

by paradoxadon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brief Mentions of Character Death, Drugged Tea, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-21
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 07:24:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paradoxadon/pseuds/paradoxadon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock needs help but he won't let John give it to him. Light onesided John/Sherlock. Really, only if you squint. I suck at summaries. The story is better XD</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vulnerable

**Author's Note:**

> Aside from the obvious fact that I don't own anything but the storyline, I've not really got anything to say. I'm sort of terrible at coming up with author notes. Enjoy!

"Whatever made you think you were invincible, Sherlock?" I know the minute the words leave my lips that I've said the exact wrong thing, but I'm determined to persevere. "You don't have to be strong all the bloody time. It's okay to be scared."

"You think I don't know that?" you say, your deep voice almost incredulous. "I'm absolutely terrified. But being scared is about as useful to me as caring. So I'll just have to stop it."

You try to go back to your work but your hands are shaking and you can barely hold the test tube. The second time you almost drop it, I snatch it from your hand and set it back in the rack. You reach for it, but I take both of your large hands in mine and make you look me in the eyes.

"Sherlock." That one little word, your name, is enough to make you drop your head exhaustedly on to my shoulder. We stand there for what seems like years but is probably only a minute or two before you rigidly pull away. I'm certain this is because you just caught yourself having human emotions, but that doesn't stop me from trying to get you to feel some more. You've gone over to your microscope now in what is no doubt another attempt to throw yourself into your work, but I can tell that you're only doing it to distract yourself from what I know is wrong. What you feel responsible for. And I know that the thought of feeling scares you so much more than this killer ever will, even though the man's killed Mycroft, a feat we all thought impossible. It scares you so much to know that, despite all your distance and all your alleged sociopathic tendencies, someone figured you out enough to hit you where it hurt.+

"Please take a break," I ask you softly. I don't want to have to sedate you, but I know I will probably have to. You're stubborn like that.

"John, I have to work. Taking breaks isn't going to catch Mycroft's killer." You're trying to act like it doesn't bother you, but it does. You're in such a bad way that you can't quite hide the tremor in your voice when you speak your brother's name. I want so much to tell you that it's not your fault, but I'll be wasting my breath. Once you get it in your head that something is your fault, there's no use trying to convince you otherwise.

"At least have some tea," I say in a last ditch effort to make you stop this madness.

"No. I have to- Just let me-" You try to deny my efforts to look after you, but immediately know it's not going to work when you see the look on my face.

"Fine," you mutter, allowing me to drag you to your chair.

"Milk and sugar, please," you call once I've returned to the kitchen, as if you expect me to have forgotten.

"I know," I reply, because you know damn well I haven't forgotten but I'm willing to play along if it'll get you to just stop for a moment or two. And, if I managed to surreptitiously put a dose of sedative in your mug, that's just some extra and much needed sleep for you.

You peer suspiciously into your mug for a moment before taking a long sip of tea. I know you've detected my little bit of doctoring, but you're too tired to protest at this point.

Later, when I'm carrying that long body of yours into your bed, I'm glad you let me drug you. You look more peaceful than I've seen you in a while and, as I brush your hair away from your face and drop a gentle kiss to your forehead before covering your prone form with a blanket, I linger a little longer than I probably should, just to watch you sleep a moment.

I know you'll thank me in the morning but, as I all but fall into your chair, running my fingers through my hair, I wish you could learn to lean on me without having to pretend like you're not. I guess you'll always think you're invincible…


End file.
